


in the flowers that bloom

by LearnedFoot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Moving On, Peter Parker-centric, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-11-02 02:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/pseuds/LearnedFoot
Summary: The first time Peter brings flowers to Mr. Stark’s grave, it’s already covered in them.





	in the flowers that bloom

**Author's Note:**

> A short thing about Peter dealing with Tony’s death. Originally written for the prompt “words of leaving flowers on grave” and posted [here](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/387809.html?thread=2277159137#cmt2277159137). It’s been cleaned up a bit.
> 
> Sorry guys, no happy ending in this one, unless you count slowly learning to live without him. Gen because that’s just how it turned out (but it’s me; I’m not exactly going to be bothered if you read the ship into it).
> 
> Title from the poem [“Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep”](http://www.yourdailypoem.com/listpoem.jsp?poem_id=322) by Mary Elizabeth Frye.

The first time Peter brings flowers to Mr. Stark’s grave, it’s already covered in them, a monument piled high with testaments to the public face: hero, genius, philanthropist. All the things Peter had thought he’d known about the man before he really knew him, but none of the things that were really him. These flowers aren’t for the childlike grin he got when he played in the lab, or the way his eyes went soft when Peter came in one day having listened to Black Sabbath’s entire discography. They’re certainly not for the way he could make Peter crumple with a single disappointed frown, or his desperate, floundering attempt to comfort him as he fell apart, literally crumbling to dust in his arms.   
  
Peter tosses his meager offering on the pile, feeling cheap and dumb for even coming here, as if he’s just another fanboy mourning the idea of Iron Man. He’s not sure why he bothered. It’s not like seeing where he’s buried will make anything better.

***

He doesn’t go back to the grave until after the thing with Mysterio. As soon as he sees it, he’s overwhelmed by the memory of Iron Man crawling out of the ground, rotting, menacing, hero made nightmare. He collapses to his knees and, for the first time since he landed in New York, sobs.   
  
“I fucked up,” he whispers through tears. “You trusted me and I fucked it all up. I’m sorry.”  
  
Eventually an old woman stops by his side. She pats his shoulder kindly. “It’s okay, young man,” she tells him in a soft, paper-thin voice. “We all miss him. But there are other heroes out there. They’ll keep us safe.”  
  
Peter has to hold back a despairing laugh, but when the woman hands him a few flowers—“These are for my husband,” she explains of her bouquet, “but he’ll understand if it’s a couple short this week”—he places them on the grave. It doesn’t feel like much of an apology, but it’s a start. 

***

He goes to Mr. Stark’s grave a lot after his name gets exposed. He just wants someone who will get it. Ned tries, so does May, but it’s not the same; Mr. Stark always understood. He likes to go late at night, after patrolling, when there’s no one else there. When he can lean against the headstone and just talk.  
  
“I can’t believe you _chose_ this,” he muses one night, back pressed against the stone as he wolfs down a slice of pizza. “When I was little I thought your whole ‘I am Iron Man’ move was so cool, but now I think it might’ve been insane. No offense.”   
  
He can almost hear Mr. Stark’s laugh. His eyes would crinkle and he’d say something like, “For someone who doesn’t want to offend me, you end up saying ‘No offense’ a lot, kid.”   
  
He smiles into the empty night. “Anyway, did you know I have to go to court next week? Turns out I’ve been doing a lot of trespassing and false imprisonment. Matt—that’s my lawyer—says he thinks it’s going to be fine, but I’m pretty nervous. I’ve been watching videos of your Senate hearings to psych myself up. _Not_ that I’m going to act like you, I don’t think I could pull it off. But not _not_ like you, either, right? Grey area.”   
  
He stops and closes his eyes. Imagines Mr. Stark squeezing his shoulder, firm and comforting, telling him, “Yeah, that’s right. You’re going to be great.”  
  
He finishes the pizza and stands, wiping his hands on the side of his suit. “Sorry I didn’t bring flowers this time. I promise I will next time, unless I’m in prison. Which hopefully I won’t be. That would suck.”

***

He doesn’t go to prison. He does go to college.   
  
“MIT,” he tells Mr. Stark proudly, holding out the acceptance letter as if he can see it. He also has red flowers, wrapped in a grey bow: MIT colors. “Just like you. Though that means I’ll be coming by less. I figure you’d understand.”  
  
He feels a little silly as he presses his fingertips to the carved letters on the headstone. It’s just stone, it shouldn’t make him feel closer to him, but it does.

“I still miss you, sir,” he says. “I hope you know that. Every day.”

***

After a while it gets harder to get back. But he still goes, every year, on Mr. Stark’s birthday, to tell him about what’s happened since the last time he checked in. School, then graduation. The new Avengers; eventually, his marriage, his kids. His life.  
  
Every year he crouches, tracing his fingers across Mr. Stark’s name. Every year he places flowers on the ground, presses his forehead against the cool headstone, and whispers, “I still miss you, sir. I hope I’ve made you proud.” 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is loved and appreciated.


End file.
